


The 12 Days of Harry and Lou

by helikesboys



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:33:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helikesboys/pseuds/helikesboys





	

December 14th

Their house looks the same. Its' A-frame roof still perfectly skims the edges of the front porch. The front porch with the white railing, and the matching outdoor wire settee. Its' columns still lend their support to the second floor. Its' red door continues to sit below the upstairs bedroom window; the window that has the same translucent drop curtains as before.

But inside, it feels different. There's no longer the stale smell of packing boxes and old newspaper. Now, the walls retain a bite of ginger from an expensive candle and the sweetness of brown sugar that lingers from two weeks worth of constant baking. The furniture is worn, the greying brick fire place is lit, and warms the entire house. A house that finally seems to belong to those who live inside.   
Two years later, it smells like Christmas and feels like home.

Harry has been thinking about this moment for two months. Realistically it wasn't that hard of a decision; something Louis had been telling him for.. well, two months. But Harry wants it to be perfect and there was no way he could rush into a decision that's so important. But finally the moment had come. There he is standing in the middle of the room with candy cane socks tucked into his sweats and the biggest shirt he owns falling off one shoulder.

Paint brush in hand, he's just not sure it's the right colour.

They had chosen a mint green after a long debate at the hardware store and now Harry just isn't sure he had been right after all. Before he could think on it too much he heard the front door swing open and Louis call his name as he walked in.

With one hand on his hip and the other holding up the paintbrush, Harry's frown is quickly replaced by a lazy smile as he feels arms wrap around his waist and a soft kiss placed on his neck.

"It looks good baby," Louis mumbles against Harry's shoulder.

Harry's hand leaves his hip, fingers running softly along his husbands arm before resting over the hands that lay on his stomach, "Are you sure it's right? I'm starting to think the turquoise might have been better?"

Laughing quietly Louis turns Harry around to face him, hands on either side of the mans face, "H, it looks good. The green is the perfect colour. It almost matches your eyes."

A snort escapes the younger man, "Lou my eyes are a much darker green."

Smiling, Louis' hands gently pull Harry's face closer until their lips touch softly.

"Yeah but I got you to stop stressing, didn't I?" He whispered.

Harry supposes he agrees with Louis but isn't hard pressed to say that to his face, so he just hides his smile in the chilly bare skin of Louis' neck. He's just starting to think about the way the light from the window will cast an awful shadow on the new paint when his supposedly kind, loving husband throws his fingers into Harry's ribs and- "Harry! Stop bloody thinking about the colour, you know I don't really care what it is as long as you love it!" He opens his mouth to argue because of course he knows that, he just wants the house to still feel like their home once it's been redone. He gets cut off by Louis lips though so he just hums and relaxes back into their hug. Until he remembers he's still holding the paint brush.

He can't help his laughter as he pulls out of their hug to see the green streak over the shoulder of Louis' white dress shirt, "Lou I think I might need to get you some new work shirts for Christmas."

Looking down at the ruined white fabric Louis laughs shaking his head, "You truly are a menace Styles."

"It's Tomlinson now silly."

Quickly swiping the paintbrush from Harry's hand he dots the tip of his nose with the excess paint, "I love hearing you say that Rudolph."

"Rudolph's nose is red," Harry retorts with a fake frown that seems to take a lot of effort, "Honestly Lou, do you know nothing about Christmas?"

"You know I do Harold."

And well, of course he does because for the last two years, and Harry assumes the coming one, Louis has been gifting him the most absurd presents in the lead up to Christmas Day. Harry likes to complain but secretly he does appreciate the sentiment; even though Louis occasionally lets it get out of hand. Like last year when he tried to buy them a holiday house in LA -(Harry had ignored him for two days after that one.) Being married doesn't change the way Harry feels about Louis careless throwing his money away on things they don't need. He likes to think of himself as a minimalist - as lame as it may sound; Louis is his Home and that's all he really needs.

"Earth to Harry? Where'd you go?" A finger pokes his cheek. "Not thinking about the bloody paint again are you Harold? You could paint this damn wall with chalk and I wouldn't care."

"Are you crazy Louis? Chalk is terrible for you, we would be asthmatic in a year!" Harry exclaims with manic eyes.

Louis gets it though so he just rolls his eyes and gives him a rough kiss on the corner of his mouth before moving away to dip the brush back into the paint. "I'll do the rolling if you do the edges?"

"Deal."

It's dark outside when their first coat is done, and the two smile happily at the finished product - Harry finally happy with the mint green that now covered the study. "Guess I was right about the colour Lou."

Louis snorts, packing up the paint brushes, "You're so damn hormonal." Harry's smile turns into laughter as he slaps his husband over the head mumbling a rough "Idiot" under his breath. Louis presses a quick kiss to his cheek and heads to the kitchen to find something for dinner.

Showered, and in his softest pyjamas. Harry walks downstairs to a lit fire; warmth filling the lounge room as Louis emerges juggling two plates of what Harry assumes to be omelettes and cutlery. Louis' hair is ruffled, his sweater covered in food and his mouth set in a pout when he hands Harry the plate, "Sorry, I still can't make an omelette properly to save my life."

Laughing, Harry reaches to take the plate from his husband's outstretched hand. Louis sits next to him on the couch, eyes not leaving his face as he takes a hesitant bite. His face changes from worried to surprised as he swallows.

"Might not look amazing but it sure does taste good babe, I'm proud to say you're improving."

This is Harry's favourite part of the work day; when the they sit down to catch up over food or wine or whatever they're in the mood for. Sometimes there's nothing much to catch up on and they'll flick through the different programmes on tv or Harry will read while Louis plays with his hair. He's grateful that this part of their relationship hasn't changed with marriage. Grateful that there's still conversation and not the passive aggressive grunting he remembers his parents doing in the evenings after school.

So Louis tells Harry about his morning meeting at work and Harry giggles as he recounts the story of his preschool class trying to convince him to act out the Grinch (which, after putting up no protest, he did). He's just so excited to keep his own class next year. It's obviously going to be tough chasing after them all day, every day, but there's so much he has been missing out on as a temp.

Harry ends up curled up in front of Louis; their cat Gingerbread lying up against his hip, with fingers lazily drawing patterns on his arm as they settled into a comfortable silence. The television plays quietly but Harry focuses on the sound of Louis' heart beating and his eyes begin to feel heavy. It was usually around now Harry would doze listening to Louis' breathing; wrapped up in the warmth of the fire. Louis would sometimes sing softly to Harry, other times he too would let his eyes fall closed, breathing becoming deeper with sleep. Tonight however, Louis is too excited to let his exhaustion take over.

"Hey H, baby, I have something for you."

Harry turned his head, looking up at Louis with tired eyes, "Hmm?"

"It's December 14th." Harry just raises an exasperated eyebrow and let's out a sarcastic groan. "Hey you don't get to complain about these anymore! And I know you've secretly been looking forward to this years presents." Harry can't really argue with that.

"Alright you win. What is it? My own island? A personal chef? Or maybe an elephant?" Louis guides him to turn over with a hand pressed into the small of his back, gentle but sturdy. Face to face, Harry rolls his eyes.

"Where the fuck would we keep an elephant Harold?"

"In our private zoo - duh." Louis' laughs into the crook of Harry's neck.

"You're a bloody twat. We're off track. Present number one." He clears his throat, Harry squares his shoulders and copies him. "Twat."

"You said that already."

"Two days worth of massages and full frontal nudity." Harry looks at him skeptically.

"I hope you're not insinuating we're going to a nudist spa." Which - "Actually that's not a bad idea."

"It's not a nudist colony for Christs sake, I just figured we'd spend more time with our clothes off than on.

"Fair enough."


End file.
